


All the things I overlooked

by dunklenacht310



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bakery, Bottom Harry, Gay Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Photography, Superpowers, Top Zayn, harry is cute, the usual, zayn is oblivious and angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 20:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18171281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunklenacht310/pseuds/dunklenacht310
Summary: Zayn hated when things were just there, overlooked and unnoticed by everyone. And he might still not be sure about what the f**k he was feeling, but one thing he knew. If there was one thing he really, really didn’t want to overlook, it was Harry’s heart.-In Zayn's world, once you reach 21, you have the possibility of going to the town hall and choose a power from a list. Zayn chose his four years ago, mainly because he thought he would have fun with it. He does. His power only works on objects, until he runs into a certain Harry Styles, and things happen.





	All the things I overlooked

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the character present in this work.

 

 

 

When Zayn had gone to the town hall and he’d chosen his power four years earlier, his decision had been driven by the fact that the poor power in the ‘Abilities about numbers’ category had been overlooked by everyone, and Zayn hated things being overlooked. It was a cool power, and he knew he would have a laugh with it.

Being able to see the ‘coolest stats’ of the things he touched was bound to be a fun one, because it meant he could touch his dad’s car and his brain would provide information such as how many dogs peed on it, _which, by the way, it’s 198, baba, you really need to park it in a better spot, you’re invading some poor dog’s territory or summat._ Yaser hadn’t been that happy about that one.

The highlight of Zayn’s power had certainly been that he now knew exactly how many times Louis had had sex in his own bed, which was a shamefully low number, a fact Zayn liked to remind Louis about almost daily, no matter how many punches he earned in return.

“Not everyone can fuck like a rabbit as you do” Louis answered “If I could see _your_ coolest stats it would say something like ‘people fucked: 3589, congrats, it’s a slag’, Zayn”

Zayn just shrugged on his way to work, because yeah, maybe he really was a slag, but he liked the fucking, and what was the harm in a bit of fun with no commitment if both parties agreed? Besides, Louis was also wrong because Zayn’s power didn’t work on people. He could see the stats of things, but he didn’t see anything when he touched people, which maybe was a blessing. Zayn couldn’t have dealt with touching his one-night stands and seeing shit like ‘wife: 1, kids: 3’ or ‘secret dangerous fetishes: 4’ or something.

His shift at the pub didn’t start for another ten minutes, so Zayn stopped at the corner and leaned his back into the wall of an old abandoned building, lighting a cigarette and looking at the smoke curling towards the dark night sky.

Old buildings were always fun, because a lot of weird shit had usually happened in them over time. Zayn smirked a bit, curiosity nagging at him, and slid his palm on the cold concrete he was leaning into.

 _Abandoned building in Parker Blvd, 18. People who died here: 6_ , his brain informed him in the shape of neon blue letters Zayn could see behind his closed eyelids.

And well, that was fairly normal, all things considered, because whenever Zayn felt particularly morbid and _looked_ for the number of deaths in a specific house, especially if it was old, he was always met with high numbers. A long time always meant many deaths. The thing was that, usually, he had to consciously _look_ for that info, because most of the time, if he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, his brain only provided the weirdest and coolest statistics, and death was never one of them.

The fact that the six dead people in that house were the default ‘cool’ stat of the building made Zayn frown, but he had a job to get to, so he stubbed his cigarette and forgot about the building.

 

*

 

Okay, maybe he didn’t _really_ forget about the building, because as soon as he was done with his shift, his feet guided him back to the abandoned house before he could consciously realize.

He stared at it while he smoked. It was just a small concrete house, with cracked, dirty windows and a half-demolished entrance door under a tiny porch cluttered with remnants of armchairs and stools.

 _How risky would it be if I went inside to have a look?_ , he thought, while he almost physically heard Louis’s pissed voice telling him it was a bad, bad idea.

But as it was, that night Zayn was pissed at Louis for calling him a slag, so he crossed the tiny street. And because he really, really hated when things were just _there_ , overlooked and ignored by everyone, in he went.

The door creaked open as soon as Zayn applied the slightest pressure. Zayn stepped past the dusty threshold, and the smell of stale air and rust immediately hit his nostrils, making him cough.

“Jesus Christ, how long has this house been empty?” he muttered.

“Ten years” someone replied, and Zayn had a fucking heart attack.

He screamed, instinctively jumping backwards when he realized the raspy voice was very, _very_ close to him, coming from his right. The light was practically non-existent, but he was still able to make out a lanky, tall figure in the weak light coming from the street lamps outside.

“What the fuck?” Zayn gasped.

The other man chuckled lightly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. You should make sure houses are empty before breaking in, though” he said, and took a step towards Zayn.

Zayn thought he was probably about to be killed, so he rushed backwards, trying to reach a window so he could escape, but he tripped on something, and lost his balance, feeling like the floor had just been pulled from under his feet.

The man reached for his arm to steady him, and Zayn’s brain hit him with a neon-blue message.

_Harry Edward Styles. Heartbroken: 20 times._

Well, _that_ was something new. Zayn had always been extremely sure his power didn’t work on people, and yet there he was, with a tall guy he couldn’t see, who was named Harry Styles and apparently had had his heart broken a shitton of times. _Coolest stats my arse_ , Zayn thought.

“Are you okay?” the guy, Harry, asked, quickly letting Zayn go “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, really. Please don’t trip and split your head open. That’s usually my job”

Zayn, despite himself, chuckled, concentrating on standing on his feet again. “It’s alright. Um. What… what are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Harry retorted.

Zayn retreated next to the window, where the light was decent because of a streetlamp just some feet away, and squinted at the silhouette he could see in the darkness of the room. “My power told me the house needed to be checked out”

He heard Harry step forward. “Same” he said, and when he reached Zayn, Zayn finally saw his face.

It was probably the most beautiful man Zayn had ever seen. Tall, with a curtain of chocolate curls cascading around his face, a lovely jawline, and big, clear eyes which were probably green, although Zayn couldn’t be sure in such a dim light.

Zayn was probably gaping a little, because Harry chuckled, revealing a row of white teeth. “Feels like that scene from _Beauty and the Beast_. I hope I’m not as upsetting of a view as him, though. My name’s Harry” he said, holding out a hand for Zayn.

“Zayn” Zayn replied, shaking his hand. His fingers were strong, and his hand was warm in Zayn’s.

“So, Zayn” Harry smiled, and the faint light cast shadows over two prominent dimples in his cheeks “What do you do?”

“I’m a bartender?” Zayn answered, frowning.

Harry laughed. “No, I meant. What’s your power?”

“Oh” Zayn chuckled, feeling dumb, because _of course_ “Right. My brain tells me the coolest stats about things I touch”

“Wow, I bet that’s fun” Harry said, widening his already big eyes “So what’s the stat about this place?”

Zayn shrugged. “Okay, don’t freak out, but… six people died in here”

Harry, to his credit, didn’t freak out. He just nodded. “They didn’t just die. They were killed”

“ _What_?” Zayn hissed “How do you know?”

“’S my power. I can feel when buildings have had people killed in them”

 _Creepy. Why the hell would you choose a power like this?_ , Zayn thought, shivering “And you thought it was a good idea to come alone to check out a place where six people have been killed?”

Harry grinned. “Why, Zayn, are you worried about me?” he asked, hip-checking him “It’s fine, I always do this. My stepfather’s a cop”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Are you planning on becoming a cop as well and use your power for the greater good or summat?”

Harry laughed, but his laugh wasn’t as joyful as the ones before. “Not a chance. I’m _the worst_ judge of character ever, I would make a terrible cop. I just help Robin – my stepfather – with my power when I get the chance”

Zayn thought again about how many times Harry had had his heart broken, and wondered if that was why he deemed himself to be a bad judge of character. “So what do you usually do when you discover buildings where people have been killed?”

Harry shrugged. “I look for the bodies, and then I call Robin. Wanna help?”

Zayn had probably gone totally nuts, because he took one more glance at Harry’s green eyes and lean body, and nodded.

 

*

 

There were no bodies.

Zayn and Harry searched the admittedly not big house, both floors, and didn’t find anything except the signs of a clear struggle in the living room, with blood stains tinting the layers of dust on the floor, a broken coffee table, and some smudgy footprints.

“We should leave” Harry said after a moment “We shouldn’t mess up the crime scene if we can avoid it”

Zayn wholeheartedly agreed, and they took care of not stepping on any of the footprints as they went out of the house, closing the half-broken door as best as they could before stepping into much fresher air.

Zayn looked for a cigarette in his pocket and lighted it up, looking sideways at Harry now that they were out, in a clearly lit street.

Harry was absolutely gorgeous. He was wearing a long-sleeved sheer shirt under which Zayn could make out a lot of ink on his chest and arms, and skinny jeans so tight they looked like they’d been especially made to give Zayn an aneurysm about Harry’s perfect legs. He had horrendous golden boots at his feet. _This guy can’t be real, can he?_

Harry scrunched his nose in distaste when Zayn lit his cigarette, and Zayn chuckled his sorry, waving at the smoke to make it disappear.

“I think I’ll go” Harry said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, awkward.

Zayn really, _really_ didn’t want him to. “I think we should fuck” he said bluntly.

Harry froze and gaped a him for a moment. “What?” was all he offered.

Zayn took another drag from his cigarette, and shrugged. “You’re fit. I like fit people. And assuming you also think I’m fit from the way you’re eyeing me, we should fuck”

“Do you really think I’d go home with a bloke I don’t know anything about to fuck?” Harry asked, putting his hands on his hips and arching an eyebrow.

Zayn grinned. “You break into abandoned buildings and crime scenes. I thought you were the risk-loving kinda bloke” he said “But we can go to yours if you don’t trust me enough to go to mine”

Harry blushed. “No, no, my roommates would never let me live this down” he quickly said “Okay, then. We can go to yours. Please don’t be a murderer”

Zayn barely restrained himself from fist-pumping the air, and crushed his cigarette under the sole of his boot. “Would be a really stupid one if I decided to kill the stepson of a cop now, wouldn’t I?”

“That is not reassuring” Harry muttered, but let Zayn take his hand and half-guide him, half-drag him along the street.

 

*

 

Zayn had really planned on offering Harry a drink first, but he didn’t, because Harry was shoving his tongue into Zayn’s mouth before Zayn even managed to open the door of his flat.

He laughed in Harry’s mouth as he made them both trip on the shoes lined by the entrance when they got inside, and grabbed Harry’s hips to steady him. “Don’t be too eager or the fun will be over before we even start” he whispered on Harry’s lips.

Harry chuckled, and tried to bite Zayn’s tongue when he pressed it against his. “You ain’t as shy as you look, eh?” Zayn commented, slowly pushing Harry backwards, to the stairs.

Harry chuckled again, grabbing Zayn’s t-shirt at the hem and starting to lift it up. “Shy won’t get me anywhere near your dick, I reckon” he stated, getting finally rid of Zayn’s shirt and pausing a moment to trace his fingers on Zayn’s chest piece “I like your wings” he said.

Zayn laughed, and kept pushing Harry towards his room. “I like you. On my bed. Now” he replied.

Harry nodded, letting Zayn manhandle him until they were on the bed in Zayn’s room and Zayn had Harry splayed on the mattress, his curls around his head like a halo.

He took care of undressing Harry as fast as he bloody could, his stupidly skinny jeans getting stuck mid-thigh until Harry chuckled and helped Zayn get rid of them, taking off his boots and socks with them.

Zayn’s mouth watered when he finally, _finally_ , caught sight of Harry’s dick, uncut, leaking. Zayn wasn’t even completely naked, but he didn’t mind, because all he could think of doing now was getting his mouth on that dick, so he did. He leaned down, kissing a trail of wet marks down Harry’s stomach, until his lips were on the head of his dick, swallowing around it.

Harry let out a moan and a curse, bucking his hips and fisting the sheets underneath him.

The thing was, Zayn loved giving head. He loved the feeling of a dick in his mouth, and most of all, he loved watching the other person thrash and squirm, completely at his mercy even if he was the one with a cock down his throat. It’s about perspective.

He slowly swirled his tongue around the head, and when Harry started moaning louder, Zayn stopped. He let him go with an obscene _pop_ , and Harry immediately raised his head to look down at Zayn, eyes begging.

“You can fuck my mouth if you want” Zayn offered.

Harry’s eyes – which were definitely green – got darker at that, and he nodded, sitting up at the edge of the bed where Zayn was crouched with his knees on the floor. Harry grabbed a fistful of Zayn’s hair, without pulling, and Zayn went down on him again, taking him halfway into his mouth, and waiting.

Harry’s first thrust was tentative, but when he realized Zayn had little to no gag reflex, he let out a sinful groan and started pushing Zayn’s head down on his dick harder. Harry knew what he was doing, Zayn thought, because he was being kinda rough, but Zayn could also feel he was watching him closely, probably to be able to pick up on any sign of discomfort from Zayn. But he wouldn’t get any, because Zayn was enjoying it just as much as Harry was.

“So good” Harry muttered “So fucking good, babe, you’re taking it so well”

Zayn couldn’t reply, of course, but he swallowed loudly around Harry’s dick in his throat, and Harry hissed and cursed and moaned, slowly pulling Zayn’s head back until he was out of his mouth completely.

“Can I fuck you?” Zayn asked, crawling on the bed to make Harry lay down again “Please, babe, I wanna fuck you so bad”

Zayn wasn’t one for begging, but he apparently was when it was Harry, because he was the most beautiful and sinful person he’d ever met, so responsive, so keen to blush, it was driving Zayn mad and he hadn’t even gotten his own pants off yet.

Harry nodded, repeatedly. “Yeah, yeah, come on” he whispered, pulling Zayn on top of him on the bed and fumbling with his belt and buttons until Zayn was finally naked as well, kicking away the remnants of his clothes.

Harry’s eyes widened when he saw how hard Zayn was, and he reached a hand out to curl his fingers around Zayn’s dick and stroke it a couple of times while Zayn looked in his bedside table for lube and a condom.

It made Zayn see stars, but not as much as when Harry started stroking both of them together, taking advantage of his big hand, and Zayn had to bury his face in Harry’s neck and slowly breathe through his nose not to come right then and there.

Harry noticed, because Zayn heard him chuckle, and the moment later his hand was gone.

When Zayn raised his head, Harry had his hands folded under his head, and a shit-eating expectant grin on his face.

“You’re a little shit, ain’t you” Zayn commented, with literally zero heat behind the insult, because he was too busy dripping lube on his fingers and then reaching between Harry’s legs.

When he gently pushed a finger inside of him, Harry moaned and pressed his head backwards on the pillow, baring the long pale line of his throat for Zayn, so Zayn felt compelled to bite it.

Zayn slowly added another finger, and then one more when Harry looked comfortable enough.

“You’re so tight, you’re gonna make me come in three seconds” Zayn murmured, his lips on Harry’s hip as he opened him up.

Harry chuckled. “Please don’t. I need a bit more than that”

Zayn laughed, and removed his fingers from inside Harry. Harry helped him roll the condom on when he saw Zayn was struggling with the foil because of how slick his fingers were.

Zayn settled himself at Harry’s entrance, and Harry raised his knees to rest them on Zayn’s shoulders, his legs bent almost to his chest, and nodded.

He was the tightest, hottest person Zayn had ever fucked, he thought as he pushed past his rim, eliciting a moan from Harry’s lips. Zayn didn’t even know how he managed to hold completely still as Harry adjusted to the intrusion, but he knew that there was no turning back when Harry nodded. He slid out and slammed back in, hard, rocking Harry’s whole body and making him roll his eyes in the back of his head as he immediately quickened the pace, feeling his leg muscles strain as he kept slamming his hips back and forth in that tight heat.

“Fuck, babe, fuck” Harry was murmuring intermittently, digging his long fingers in Zayn’s lower back to push him harder against himself, to which Zayn gladly obliged.

“I want to come, make me come, make me come” Harry pleaded, and Zayn couldn’t have denied him anything in that moment, not to this gorgeous man he didn’t know, the man with a broken heart and perfect thighs around Zayn’s waist.

Zayn reached down for Harry’s dick, and started stroking him in time with his trusts. It took barely three strokes for Harry to come with a shout. He clenched hard around Zayn, and Zayn swore he lost his eyesight for a moment as he came as well, filling the condom and biting down on Harry’s collarbone.

By the time they both came down from their orgasms, Zayn was even more useless than Harry, so Harry took it upon himself to find the bathroom and fetch a warm damp towel to clean them both off. Zayn let him, although he felt like kind of a dick for having fucked him so hard and then also having him clean them. Harry didn’t seem to mind as he stroked Zayn’s chest with the towel, his green eyes still fixed on Zayn’s tattoos.

Once they were both clean and sated, Harry cleared his throat and sat on the bed, looking for his clothes. Zayn gave a glance to the clock on his nightstand. It was four in the morning.

“You can stay if you want” he told Harry “It’s very late, I’d feel like a dick if I let you go around at this hour”

Harry chuckled, and nodded. “Thanks” he just said, and slid back under the covers next to Zayn “Then wake me up when you do?”

“Okay” Zayn agreed, sighing and turning on his side, giving Harry his back.

He kinda wanted to cuddle him a little bit, but that would have been weird. They didn’t know each other after all, didn’t they?

 

*

 

Zayn woke up after having snoozed his alarm one too many times, and he was of course late for his lunch with Louis, the lunch Zayn had promised him three days earlier.

He ran to the bathroom and showered at record speed, quickly starting the coffee and slushing down a whole cup before running back upstairs and brushing his teeth. All of it in less than twenty minutes, Zayn congratulated himself.

It was only as he ran back to his room to get dressed that he remembered there was someone in his bed.

Harry was still asleep, or probably was, Zayn couldn’t tell, because he’d pulled the covers up on his face, and only a mess of brown curls stuck out from them.

_What do I do? I need to leave. I can’t leave him asleep in my own house, can I?_

He was spared the dilemma after a moment, though, when Harry snuffled and slowly emerged from the duvet, sitting up with his hair looking like a bird’s nest, and his sleepy eyes puffy _and fuck he looks so edible but I need to go, Louis will kill me._

“Morning” Harry muttered, his voice rough and slurry and going right to Zayn’s dick.

Zayn smiled. “Morning. Um, listen, I… I’m late for something. I’m sorry”

Harry blinked three times and then his cheeks reddened. “Oh! Yeah. Yeah, no worries. I’ll get dressed and I’ll be out of your hair at the speed of light”

He looked so disgruntled and sleepy Zayn really didn’t find it in his heart to kick him out. _I might be a slag, but I do have a heart. Sometimes._ “It’s fine. My door locks automatically. Take your time, make yourself some breakfast, and leave when you’re ready” Zayn said.

Harry blinked three times again, his mouth slightly agape, and Zayn finished putting on his t-shirt and jeans, and he was done for.

He flung himself on Harry, kissing him roughly while Harry squealed at the unexpected attack and fell on his back, exactly where Zayn wanted him. Underneath him, naked, making all the lovely sounds he’d let Zayn listen to the night before.

Zayn’s phone buzzed with three texts in a row.

_Fuck, Louis._

Zayn kissed Harry for a moment longer, and then took the pen and the post-it block on the nightstand, scribbling his number on one of them, which he then stuck to Harry’s chest. “I think we should fuck again very soon” he said earnestly, while Harry looked at him like he couldn’t decide if Zayn was serious “And you should text me when you’re up for it again”

Harry frowned. “I… I’m usually not into the whole fuckbuddy thing” he slowly said.

Zayn sighed. “Listen. I get that you had your heart broken a shitton of times. But see, that’s why this is perfect. I won’t break your heart, because your heart will not be involved, and neither will mine”

Harry’s earnest gaze closed off at Zayn’s comment, and he stared at him with his jaw set. “Excuse me? What the fuck do you even know about my heart?”

Zayn shrugged. “Sorry. I saw your coolest stats when I touched you. So I know you had your heart broken twenty times already. And I’m sorry about that. But if you wanna have some fun without any risks for your heart, send me a text. I gotta go now”

He kissed Harry again, just a selfish press of his lips, because he wasn’t even sure Harry wanted to kiss him now that Zayn had just been his usual dickish self and thrown in his face that he knew about his massive heartbreak.

He decided to leave without further ado and forget about the whole thing, sure enough that Harry also preferred that Zayn leave at that point.

So he did. He left Harry in his bed, and ran out.

The thing was, Zayn really, really hated when things were overlooked, but he’d been the one who had fled the scene and ignored Harry, and he knew. So he didn’t really forget about the whole thing, because the thought of Harry nagged at him for the rest of the day when Harry didn’t text him.

 

*

 

“You’re a massive dick” Louis stated in the afternoon, apropos of nothing, as they got out of the small café where they’d had their lunch.

Louis’s power was that he was able to see what you did in the last twelve hours in a thirty-seconds flash. He’d also chosen it because he thought he would have a laugh with it, but with Zayn, he mostly didn’t laugh, because most of the time it meant Louis got extremely graphic sex scenes.

The problem was that Louis hadn’t figured out how to properly control it yet, because, much like Zayn, he hadn’t felt like paying a shitton of money for the power managing lessons, so it wasn’t like Louis could decide not to look most of the time.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “I was very kind, cheers. I even told him he could have breakfast”

“You shoved in his face that he’s got a repeatedly broken heart like you were talking about the weather” Louis retorted while they crossed the street.

“We’re extremely close to that new bakery which sells lots of sweet things we shouldn’t eat ‘cause we promised to start the gym soon” Zayn pointed out, mostly to change the subject.

Louis shrugged. “I don’t care, I want coffee and a pastry. And don’t change the subject”

“I’m not” Zayn lied, following Louis to the bakery.

The place was deserted when they entered. All the tables were empty, although Zayn vaguely noticed two people behind the counter. They welcomed them in and then kept talking intently to each other.

Zayn and Louis made their way to a comfy looking booth by the window, and Louis immediately grabbed a menu and started scanning it with eager blue eyes, which made Zayn snort even as he did the same. He was pretty sure they would _never_ actually go to the gym anyway.

“Well at least you got laid” one of the two employees told the other, and Zayn raised his eyes from the menu to wink at Louis, who grinned and got back to examining the list of pastries.

“Yeah well, Niall, I got laid by an arsehole, so there’s that”

Zayn felt his blood freeze at the guttural voice belonging to the second person, because it had just been one night, but there was no way Zayn would forget Harry’s voice any time soon.

“You okay?” Louis frowned, staring at Zayn.

Zayn widened his eyes at Louis. “It’s him” he hissed.

Louis frowned deeper.

“At least you could text him?” the first boy, Niall, said in a careful tone.

Harry scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid? I don’t actually _look_ for heartbreak, Niall” he said in a drawl “But that’s exactly the problem. He knows. And he threw it in my face like it didn’t matter. He got his dick wet, and then overlooked me. Like I was nothing. Like _my heart_ was nothing”

Zayn felt a pang of weird guilt and pain in his chest. He hadn’t been _that_ bad, had he? He’d even told Harry he didn’t want to break his heart once more, and that that was exactly the reason why they would work.

“But he’s…” Niall tried.

“I don’t care, Niall” Harry interrupted him, sternly “I don’t care ‘cause I’m not gonna text him and I’ll never see him again, so drop it”

 _I wouldn’t speak so soon, babe_ , Zayn thought, feeling equally sad and angry about Harry thinking so low of him when he’d tried to be as nice as he could manage.

He turned, and was rewarded with a clear sight of Harry’s broad back stretching a thin, white t-shirt. He was behind the counter, leaning his lower back into it and probably with his arms crossed if the tightening of his shoulder muscles was any indication, his hair tied in a bun, and he was facing a blonde lad with really clear eyes.

The blonde, Niall, gestured at them with his head and smiled. “I’ll be with you in a second” he said, retrieving a notepad from the counter and eloquently staring at Harry as if to tell him _this isn’t over._

Zayn was about to just grab Louis and leave, but right that moment Harry turned, and they locked eyes.

Zayn clearly saw him mouth a “Fuck me”, and had to restrain himself from answering _I just did that, babe_ , because the situation was already weird and awkward enough.

“Jesus” Louis muttered “Of all the places…”

Niall smiled at them and joined them at the table, notepad and pen at the ready. “Welcome to _Bready or not_ , what will you have?”

Zayn and Louis stared at him, equally aghast about the horrible pun name and the whole situation, but Niall took it as them having no idea what they wanted, so he just smiled again. “Today’s specialty is cinnamon rolls, made with a lot of love by our lovely baker, Harry” he said, gesturing to Harry with his head “He’s also the owner to be honest, hence the bad pun, but it is what it is”

And well, Zayn could restrain himself only so much, so he turned to grin at Harry. “How much love is a lot of love?” he asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “For you? No love at all. Your friend can get it all”

Niall gasped indignantly at Harry’s rude reply, but then he looked from Zayn to Harry a couple of times, and sighed. “You’re the arsehole?” he asked Zayn.

Harry squeaked. “Niall!”

Zayn held back a snort. “I guess?”

“He is” Louis confirmed “We’ll get the cinnamon rolls, thanks”

Harry rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards a door in the back, opening a sort of panel. “Liam? Bring out two cinnamon rolls? Cheers” he said.

“Actually I think we’re gonna leave” Zayn said, defeated. He didn’t wanna deal with this if Harry wasn’t interested. Zayn would eventually forget about his thighs and ass and dimples and life would move on.

The guy named Liam immediately came out of what was probably the kitchen, carrying two small plates with two giant cinnamon rolls, and Louis choked on air. “Nope. Nope, we’re staying right the fuck here” he coughed.

Zayn arched an eyebrow at Louis, because he was such a sucker for a pair of nice biceps like the ones Liam was sporting. Zayn sighed as Liam brought them the pastries and did nothing to hide how blatantly he was eyeing Louis as he set the plates on their table. “Hello. I’m Liam, assistant baker”

Louis gaped and shook Liam’s hand. “Louis. Assistant arsehole” he stated, gesturing to Zayn.

Zayn kicked him under the table, and he didn’t miss the snort coming from Harry behind his back. Liam frowned at Zayn and then widened his eyes. “ _You’re_ the arsehole?”

“Apparently” Zayn muttered, deciding that the safest option was busying his mouth with the cinnamon roll.

The pastry fucking melted in his mouth, and Zayn had to roll his eyes in pleasure while emitting a small moan as he gulped the first bite down.

Niall laughed. “Lots of love. Told ya”

Zayn nodded. “This is amazing” he said, and decided it was a good excuse to turn around and look at Harry again.

Harry’s cheeks were very red, but he cleared his throat and an overtly polite “Thank you very much” was all he said.

Zayn sighed, and gave him his back again.

“Don’t you work here anymore?” Harry asked Niall and Liam after a moment, in a pissy tone.

Niall and Liam looked at each other and rolled their eyes without replying.

“Actually, if you don’t have any more customers for now, you could sit with us?” Louis asked with a blinding smile, looking at Liam and pulling a chair to their table.

Liam looked at Harry with a set of puppy eyes that would have probably melted even a serial killer’s heart, and Harry scoffed. “Whatever. Flirt with the customers, see if I care” he declared and then stared coldly at Zayn “Oh, and by the way? Robin found the bodies _and_ the killer already. Seven homeless people took shelter in the house and one of ‘em went batshit and killed the rest, then dumped the bodies in the river. If you were wondering about that. But since I doubt you even care about the living, I guess you wouldn’t care about the dead either” he added, disappearing into the kitchen.

Niall sighed. “Sorry about that. He’s usually nice and polite to the point of exhaustion” he offered, sitting down as well.

Zayn winced, and Niall laughed, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my friend. He’s gonna take it out on his beloved bread dough and then he’s gonna be fine”

Zayn took another bite from the cinnamon roll without replying, and it had maybe been ten minutes in which they were amiably chatting to Niall and Liam, when Zayn heard a clutter coming from the back, and then the slamming of a door.

Liam smiled gently at him. “He’s gone out back to throw away the rubbish. If you wanna talk to him, just cross the kitchen and go out the door there”

Zayn didn’t stop to look at Louis, because he was probably looking at him with a knowing grin. He just muttered a thanks to Liam and stood up, going for the kitchen behind the counter. He was pretty sure there were some health codes they were all breaking by letting a customer in there, but he found out he didn’t really care if it meant he got to be close to Harry one more time, even if it was just to be yelled at and be called an arsehole again.

He barely spared a glance to the spotless small kitchen, registering the amazing smell of pies and bread baking in the two ovens, and he crossed the room towards a steel door who was kept open with a brick stuck in the crack.

He pushed it, finding himself in a very tiny dead-ended alley, where Harry was raising a giant rubbish bag, trying to throw it into one of the three dumpsters placed against the brick wall.

The bag was probably incredibly heavy, because Harry’s arms looked like the arms of someone who worked out at least a little, and yet he was still having trouble lifting it enough to throw it into the dumpster.

“Fucking hell, guys, I always tell you not to fill the bags until they’re too fucking heavy for anyone but Liam to lift” he muttered angrily, huffing.

Zayn smiled a bit to himself, and joined Harry by the dumpster, reaching for the bag to help him. Harry jolted a little at the sudden movement next to him, but didn’t say anything. The two of them finally managed to get rid of the rubbish bag.

Harry slammed the dumpster shut and sighed. “Cheers” he muttered.

Zayn smiled. “No problem”

Harry was a mess. He had flour covering his arms up until his elbows, some curls had escaped his bun, and he had a stripe of sugar crumbs on his right cheek.

Zayn wanted to lick him whole.

“I’m, um, I’m sorry I was so rude” Harry said, wringing his hands. He had his rings on, the same rings Zayn hadn’t minded that he kept on the night before while Harry wanked them both, and flour was stuck in each of them.

Zayn shrugged. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to offend you or something, this morning. I should have used more tact”

Harry sighed and nodded. “Yeah, maybe. I just don’t really like when people dismiss me”

“I wasn’t trying to dismiss you!” Zayn exclaimed, raising his hands “I swear. Fuck, I probably wouldn’t have let you leave my house for the whole day if I didn’t have to go out. I just… I was trying to politely suggest that us fucking could be great”

Harry chuckled a bit at that. “It came out very wrong when you mentioned the number of times I let people break my heart” he said “You know I never counted them? It’s not like I keep track of ‘em. It was just a lot to process when I had barely woken up”

“I sincerely apologize” Zayn said, not managing to suppress a victorious grin at the fact Harry was finally caving in.

Harry arched an eyebrow. “This doesn’t mean I want you to fuck me again”

Zayn took a couple of steps forward, and Harry backed down with a red tint to his cheeks, until Zayn had him against the brick wall, his hands caging Harry’s head.

“Then maybe next time you can fuck me” Zayn whispered.

Harry gulped down, and Zayn leaned in, running his tongue on the sugar stripe on Harry’s cheek. “Sweet” he commented.

Harry cleared his throat. “Lots of love. Niall said” he drawled, his voice impossibly low.

“You said I wouldn’t get any love” Zayn grinned, lightly grinding his hips against Harry’s.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and instinctively pushed back against Zayn, and Zayn could feel they were both already half-hard in their jeans. “I’m afraid I can’t help it” Harry whispered, and he looked so innocent in that moment, so earnest, with his eyes shut and his lips slightly parted, that Zayn briefly asked himself if it was really a good call to get involved with him.

But as Harry licked his lips, with his eyes still closed, Zayn realized he’d already gotten himself involved with Harry the moment he’d decided to break into an abandoned building.

So Zayn kissed him. He parted Harry’s lips more with his tongue, and Harry sighed, his floury hands going for Zayn’s collar, and Zayn really didn’t give a fuck that his t-shirt was black, because Harry slipped his own tongue through Zayn’s lips and slowly dragged it along the roof of his mouth with an abandon that scared Zayn. But just for half a second, so he didn’t think about it.

_I’d be a fool to overlook this mouth, wouldn’t I._

He let Harry do as he pleased with Zayn’s lips for a moment, and then he interrupted the kiss with a grin. “Text me, yeah?” he said, and kissed him quickly again, just to be sure Harry wouldn’t feel overlooked all over again.

Harry nodded, and Zayn lightly bit his red cheek before leaving and going back inside.

Harry didn’t come out again for the rest of the time Zayn spent in the bakery, finishing his cinnamon roll full of love and looking at Louis and Liam flirt while Niall eyed him suspiciously.

But, sure enough, when they finally left, his phone buzzed with a text.

_I think there are a shitton of pornos starting right where you left me._

Zayn chuckled, and saved Harry’s number before replying. _Give me time, babe. I can assure you no porno will compare to what I’m gonna do to you next._

_And there go my attempts at getting rid of the boner you left me with._

Louis gave Zayn a weird look as he chuckled again, but Zayn promptly ignored him. _Then I won’t tell you I had half a mind to fuck you right on that marble counter of yours in the kitchen._

_Zaaaynnnnnnn_

Zayn laughed, and pocketed his phone with another grin.

 

*

 

Zayn was only slightly surprised to find Harry waiting for him outside the pub when he finished his shift and got out.

Harry was on the other side of the street, aimlessly kicking some gravel with the tip of his golden boots and quietly singing something to himself. He had another pair of black skinny jeans on, and his sheer shirt was short-sleeved, the delicate light blue colour of the background doing nothing to tame the flashiness of all the flamingos printed all over it.

“I don’t believe I ever told you where I worked?” Zayn grinned as a greeting, lighting his cigarette.

Harry shrugged, sending a dimpled smile Zayn’s way. “Your friend Louis is on a date with my friend Liam right now. Liam got the info out of Louis and shared it with me”

“Louis told him first thing, more like” Zayn rolled his eyes “So, what do you wanna do?”

Harry shrugged again. “I was thinking of inviting you over for a drink and some freshly baked pie, but I don’t know if it’s proper fuckbuddy etiquette”

Zayn chuckled. “I don’t care about any etiquette if I can get pie” he replied earnestly “I’d have offered you at least a drink last night as well, but I couldn’t, ‘cause you attacked my mouth before we even got to my place”

Harry blushed, and lightly shoved at Zayn while they started walking. “I didn’t see you complaining” he pointed out.

“Nope” Zayn conceded, blowing the smoke towards the sky “Not complaining in the slightest. Yours then?”

Harry nodded. “Mine it is” he confirmed.

“What happened to ‘my roommates will never let me live this down’?”

“Well, Liam is out with Louis and if the effort he put into choosing his outfit is any indication, he won’t be home any time soon, and Niall is over at a friend’s to study for a test, which is Niall for ‘I’ll get laid tonight so don’t wait up’, ‘cause I’m pretty sure he doesn’t actually need any help with modern history” Harry rambled, talking with his hands as well as the slow drawl of his voice, waving his long ringed fingers in the air. Zayn tried very hard not to get distracted by how much he wanted those fingers to be in a very different place than the air in front of Harry’s face.

“Look at the five of us, all set up and ready to get laid tonight” he commented with a grin.

Harry arched an eyebrow. “I believe I offered you pie, not booty”

“Proper fuckbuddy etiquette states that it’s implied”

Harry laughed. It was more like a bark, and he immediately covered his mouth with both his hands, giggling in them and avoiding Zayn’s eyes at all costs.

Zayn didn’t think about how _not_ endearing he should have found that laugh.

They walked in companionable silence for a while. Zayn finished his cigarette, a bit surprised at how much he didn’t feel the need to break the quiet, because the warmth radiating from Harry’s body next to him was making everything comfortable enough.

“I went over all of ‘em, you know?” Harry said then, like their conversation hadn’t been interrupted.

Zayn frowned. “Over what?”

“My heartbreaks”

“Harry…”

“No, no, it’s fine” Harry quickly said, smiling “It’s alright, it’s just that like, twenty is a lot, you know? And as I said, I never counted them. So I did. And I don’t even remember all of ‘em. So I was like, can it even be a proper heartbreak if I don’t even remember it?”

Zayn shrugged, feeling something uncomfortable sit in his chest at the sadness lingering in Harry’s words. “If it hurt you, then it’s heartbreak” Zayn said at last “And the fact you don’t remember it doesn’t mean it wasn’t heartbreak. I guess it only means you healed and got over it”

Harry hummed, nodding a little. “Does your power allow you to go, like, _deeper_ into a specific stat? Like, could you even see the names of the people who hurt me, if you wanted to?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t intend to” Zayn said as firmly as he could without sounding too snappy “And, to be honest, you’re the first and only time my power worked on people. It’s supposed to be only for objects”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And to answer your question, yes. I usually only see random cool or weird stats about things. But if I wanted to, I could isolate one of ‘em, and try to get more info. It works most of the time” Zayn explained, less reluctantly than he originally intended “For example, sometimes I look at the stats of Louis’s bed to see how many people he fucks in it, to make fun of him. But if I wanted to go deeper, I think I could probably see the names”

Harry hummed again. “Why didn’t you try to see how the people in the abandoned house had died?”

“I was about to think about it, but then you gave me a heart attack coming out of a dark corner with no warning whatsoever” Zayn mockingly frowned at Harry.

Harry chuckled a little bit, and didn’t reply.

“Can you go deeper with your power?” Zayn asked after a moment “Like, can you try and see who’s the killer?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I can go as far as seeing the time and cause of death, if I concentrate very very hard that is, but I only do it when it’s extremely important for Robin, like, for example when CSI aren’t sure and it’s vital information to have indisputable proof. Otherwise I don’t do that, ‘cause if I try too hard, it can be very bad for me” he said, grimly looking at his boots as they kept walking.

“What do you mean?”

“I get terrible headaches that make me useless for days on end. Sometimes I even get nosebleeds. Last time I did it I was eighteen, and it was a super bad case, the victims were kids. So I didn’t stop at time and cause of death, and I tried to see who the killer was. I ended up in a week-long coma”

Zayn frowned at all the ghastly info he’d just received, but one thing stuck out the most. “Wait, what do you mean, you were eighteen? You can’t choose your power before you’re twenty-one”

Harry chuckled bitterly. “I was born with this, Zayn. Do you really think I would _choose_ something like this, if I could help it?”

 _Well, fuck me_. “I understand” Zayn said “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who was born with a power”

“Me neither” Harry replied, pointing at a street to tell Zayn they should cross “It is what it is. Just imagine my poor mum the day I started properly talking. She’s coming out of the park with five-year old me, and I look at her and go like ‘ma, someone’s been killed in that house’. Scared the shit out of her, bless her”

Zayn laughed. “Proper _the sixth sense_ kid, you are”

Harry laughed too, and stopped in front of a three-storey building, fishing a set of keys from the pocket of his jacket. Zayn noticed a flashy keychain in the shape of a half kiwi.

“We live in the apartment on the second floor” Harry explained, guiding Zayn up a set of stairs “The elderly couple above us is nice. I bring them their groceries and they bake me cookies with a secret recipe I have yet to figure out. The three girls living on the first floor hate the shit out of all of us though. Apparently they took Liam’s love of cock and consequent refusal of having an orgy with them as a personal insult”

Zayn snorted loudly at that, and Harry snickered a little as well as they made their way to the door of the apartment. Harry opened it and preceded Zayn inside. They both toed off their boots in the hallway, and then Zayn followed Harry through a small corridor and into a neat kitchen.

“Have a seat. Wine or beer?” Harry offered, gesturing to the chairs around the breakfast bar and then starting to rummage through the fridge.

“Beer, thanks” Zayn replied, taking a seat and shamelessly ogling Harry’s ass when he bent down to pick two bottles of beer.

Harry had apparently already made the dough for the pie, so it took him no time to prepare the rest. Zayn swiftly sat on the counter next to where Harry was carefully closing the dough around the filling, only to bother him, but Harry just chuckled and pretended to be very concentrated on his pie.

“Aren’t chefs supposed to get angry when you invade their space?” Zayn asked, taking a swig from his beer.

Harry snorted. “I’m not a chef, Zayn”

Zayn dipped a finger in one of the holes in the pie and retrieved a piece of mushroom, still trying to get Harry to lose his cool, but Harry just stared at Zayn as he slowly and deliberately put the mushroom in his mouth. “Still. I thought you’d get upset that I was trying to make a mess out of your pie” Zayn said around the bite.

Harry smirked. “I’m a baker. I like when things get messy” he stated, and then took another mushroom from the pie, putting it into his own mouth with his fingers as well, licking them and taking them out with a _pop_.

Zayn was probably gaping at Harry as he smirked again and slid the tin with the pie in the oven, closing it with his hip, and Zayn didn’t have time to do much more before Harry settled himself between his open legs and licked Zayn’s lips with just the tip of his tongue.

“Pie’s gonna bake for thirty minutes” Harry whispered right into his ear “By the time it’s done, you’ll have gotten the blowjob of your fucking life”

His fingers popped the button on Zayn’s jeans right after he was done speaking. “Fuck” Zayn sighed.

Harry arched an eyebrow, but when he saw Zayn was in fact not complaining, he grinned and dove a hand under Zayn’s jeans and briefs, just enough to get his already half-hard dick out.

“I think it’s a health hazard to do this on the counter” Zayn managed to point out.

Harry chuckled. “I’m ace at cleaning counters” he replied.

His lips were right over Zayn’s, barely a brush, but when Zayn leaned forward to kiss him, Harry just kitten-licked them again, and ducked down to swallow Zayn’s dick whole.

“Oh, fuck” Zayn hissed.

Harry somehow managed to smirk again around a mouthful of dick, and swirled his tongue around the head, slowly, torturously slowly, until Zayn couldn’t restrain himself anymore and he grabbed two fistfuls of Harry’s curls. He didn’t pull at them and he didn’t use them to guide Harry’s head, though, because he was already enjoying it too much.

Zayn didn’t know how long Harry kept bobbing his head up and down on his dick, because he was too busy concentrating on not coming too embarrassingly quickly, but at some point Harry’s mouth was gone, and he raised a set of dark eyes up to Zayn. Zayn felt a new wave of pleasure just noticing how swollen Harry’s mouth was.

“You can fuck my mouth if you want” Harry said, replicating what Zayn had told him the night before.

So Zayn did. He brought Harry’s face on his dick again, and although he was in no position to properly thrust his hips, he pushed Harry’s head up and down, while Harry swallowed and hollowed his cheeks, his green eyes watering but never leaving Zayn’s.

It was too much. The position, the way Harry seemed to have even more of a lack of a gag reflex than Zayn, and how the back of his throat fluttered around Zayn every time he pushed Harry’s head further down.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” Zayn gritted out.

Harry nodded, his hands travelling upwards over Zayn’s stomach and chest, until they were on both his pecs, his nails lightly scratching Zayn’s nipples.

Zayn came, hard, probably even harder than the night before and surely by a long shot harder than he’d ever come with anyone else, and Harry choked a little but kept swallowing every single drop, only releasing Zayn when he was sure Zayn was done.

The oven dinged. _Fuck, has it really been half an hour?_ , Zayn thought, completely spent and wondering how he was even managing to still sit straight on the counter.

Harry straightened the back he’d kept crouched for the whole time, and made a show of cracking it, sending a filthy smirk in Zayn’s direction.

When he moved to get the pie out of the oven, Zayn grabbed his hips and pulled him back between his legs, kissing him and chasing the taste of himself on Harry’s tongue. “I wanna fuck you, let me fuck you again, I wanna make you come too” he muttered on Harry’s lips, not even feeling weird or guilty about how pleading his tone was.

Harry grinned. “At least take me to dinner first” he said, gesturing to the oven.

Zayn laughed and let him go.

 

*

 

“Zayn, what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

Louis announced his presence in Zayn’s flat with a hiss, but Zayn didn’t bother to flinch, because he’d become used to Louis letting himself in into Zayn’s house at random times, using the spare key Zayn himself had given him.

“Breakfast?” Zayn said, concentrating on spreading the marmalade on a slice of toast and then covering it with another slice.

“It’s seven in the bloody morning” Louis pointed out.

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, which by the way, why are you in my house at this ungodly hour?”

“ _I_ wanted to make _you_ breakfast while you kept sleeping, to apologize for not hanging out much this week, but I see my services are not requested?” Louis said with a questioning tone “Why are you making breakfast this early?”

Zayn shrugged. “Harry had a rough night, spent it in the lab at his uni to finish some assignment. He’s still there and I’m bringing him breakfast to hopefully convince him to get some rest”

“Harry hates blueberry marmalade, Zayn” Louis said.

Zayn stopped dead in his tracks and abruptly turned to finally face Louis, who was sitting on the kitchen table, his legs dangling in the air and a frown on his face. “What?” Zayn asked “How do you even know?”

“Because I spent the last month with Liam at their place almost 24/7 and I shockingly manage to actually suppress any urge of getting Harry naked long enough to talk to him?” Louis said pointedly.

Zayn dropped the knife on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean by that?”

“I dunno, Zayn. I’m honestly starting to think it’s a bit weird that you’ve been seeing Harry every day for more than a month and yet you don’t even know which marmalade he likes”

“What does marmalade even have to do with anything?” Zayn exclaimed.

It was too early in the bloody morning to interpret Louis’s cryptic statements. To be honest, it was too early in the bloody morning for _anything_ , and Zayn could have been in bed for at least another five hours, but no, he had to wake up at the crack of dawn because he felt the impellent need to make Harry breakfast and bring it to him. Go figure.

“The point’s not marmalade” Louis barrelled on “Zayn, do you even _know_ Harry? Have you made a fucking effort to know him since you started fucking?”

“What do you want, Lou?” Zayn sighed “I don’t understand what you want from me”

“I want you to realize you’re not actually dating Harry just ‘cause you don’t know how to take your head out of your arse”

Zayn took a deep breath, because he was very close to lashing out at Louis. “Just ‘cause you and Liam decided to go steady and date doesn’t mean we all want to do the same”

Louis stood up from the table and took some careful steps towards Zayn, his tone suddenly quieter. “Have you ever stopped the fucking long enough to ask Harry what _he_ really wants? Do you even know what _he_ feels about relationships? ‘Cause I asked him, and I do know”

Zayn felt a very weird and upsetting wave of jealousy crash over him. What did Louis know about Harry, _his_ Harry? Zayn had spent literally every free hour with Harry for the past month, he _knew_ Harry, he knew every nook and cranny of his wonderful body, every flicker of his green eyes, Zayn _knew_ Harry. And for fuck’s sakes, why was he even feeling jealous? Harry was not his boyfriend, Zayn didn’t _want_ a boyfriend, he wanted the fucking and the easy laughs and the easy everything. He was Zayn Malik, Heartbroken: 0 times, and he intended to stay that way.

“I know Harry” he stated, opening the cabinet and trying to decide which fucking marmalade Harry could like, because he didn’t know _that_.

Louis sighed, and joined him at the cabinet, taking out the apricot jam and handing it to Zayn with a sure movement. Zayn felt something unpleasant churn in his stomach, and took it, starting to busy himself with spreading the right jam on the other toast.

“Zayn, I know it’s your business. But I want you to eventually realize you’re so scared of commitment that you lie even to yourself and say that what you have is fine, and yet here you are, being jealous that I know Harry’s favourite fucking jam” Louis said in a gentle tone.

Zayn didn’t raise his eyes from the toast. “It’s fine. I don’t want anything more. And neither does Harry”

“You never keep a fuckbuddy this long. You never see them as often as you see Harry. And you most certainly don’t wake up at the crack of bloody dawn to make ‘em breakfast ‘cause they had a rough night”

Zayn didn’t answer, because Louis was a hundred per cent right.

The second night they’d been together, Harry had made a joke about ‘proper fuckbuddy etiquette’. The truth was, nothing of what Zayn had with Harry looked like a fuckbuddy relationship. Zayn had had many of them in the course of his life, and he was perfectly sure he hadn’t even let them ever stay the night at his place, not once, not like it almost always happened with Harry. Be it Zayn’s place, or Harry’s, they always slept together after they fucked.

And Zayn loved it, was the thing. He loved the feeling of Harry’s body curled against his, he loved waking up in the morning with a mouthful of curly hair and Harry’s warmth engulfing him. He loved that Harry didn’t just text him to booty-call him, but also sent him stupidly perfect pictures of flowers and cats and weird signs he noticed on his way to work.

Louis was right about everything, _especially_ about Zayn not knowing Harry. Zayn didn’t even know what Harry studied in uni, or what his favourite colour was, if he liked to read or watch tv shows, Zayn had never asked. Because asking meant he cared about more than the fucking, more than the easy laughs, more than the easy everything. He’d given Harry all his time, all his energy, and why couldn’t that be enough?

The thing was, Zayn _wanted_ to know. He always had questions on the tip of his tongue for Harry, but he always swallowed them down, because Harry never asked either. And what if it turned out it was Harry who didn’t want to know Zayn? Zayn would make a total fool of himself, and even the strained and weird relationship they had would be gone. Zayn would rather keep on with the fucking forever and never have anything else, if it also meant Harry would stay forever.

Zayn felt a bit overwhelmed by the silence and the loud thoughts in his head, and he realized his eyes were watering only when he couldn’t see the toasts in his hands anymore. “Fuck” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and sniffling “What the fuck’s happening to me?”

Louis snorted. “What do you think you are, a robot? You know what’s happening to you. You’re falling in love at last, and God help us with the aftermath of your sudden realization”

Zayn chuckled a bit, wiping his eyes again. “Why does it feel this shitty?”

“Because, my friend, you spent your whole fucking life running from it. Heartbreak is bad, yeah, but it helps you deal with how overwhelming the whole love thing feels”

“Then Harry must be ace at loving”

Louis rolled his eyes, and helped Zayn carefully wrap the toasts in tinfoil. “Have you seen him? He fucking climbs three sets of stairs every week to bring groceries to the couple living above ‘em. If Harry isn’t ace at loving, we’re all doomed” he stated “Be careful with him, Zayn. There’s something Liam always tells me about Harry. He says Harry has the heart of a tiny bird. It beats louder and faster than normal hearts, but it means it’s also easier for people to crush it without even noticing, when they’re squeezing too hard”

Zayn hated when things were just _there_ , overlooked and unnoticed by everyone. And he might still not be sure about what the fuck he was feeling, but one thing he knew. If there was one thing he really, really didn’t want to overlook, it was Harry’s heart.

 

*

 

The realization that he didn’t even know what Harry studied in uni hit Zayn all over again when he stepped inside the campus, and didn’t know where to even begin looking for Harry.

_How bad would it be if I just went around asking if anyone has seen a fit bloke with long hair and stupid shirts?_

He shook his head, securing the backpack with their breakfast on his shoulder, and retrieved his phone to text Harry. _Hey babe. I’m outside your uni. Which lab are you in?_

Harry didn’t answer straight away, so Zayn roamed around a little bit, smoking a cigarette and touching things for fun.

 _Humanities building. Children conceived in it: 3986_ , his brain told him in neon-blue letters, and Zayn snorted at the discovery.

_Bench dedicated to Margaret Thatcher. Breakups that happened here: 35._

_Half-bust of Salvador Dal_ _í_ _. People in this campus that don’t know who he is: 458._ “Oh, come on, it’s Salvador fucking Dalí” Zayn scoffed, sending an apologetic glance to poor Salvador’s sculpture, and feeling his resolve crumble as he took out his phone again to see if Harry had read his text.

When he opened Harry’s chat, he saw that he had indeed read the text, and was typing. Harry typed and deleted three times before sending Zayn a _Photography lab in the arts building._

Zayn nodded to himself, send Harry a mushroom emoji just because, and made his way through the neatly trimmed flowerbeds until he reached the arts building.

He got lost before he even got to the clusterfuck of signs hung to the wall that the university called an ‘explanatory map’, and stared at it while his eyes crossed for a while, before giving up and turning.

He stopped a girl with blue hair and smiled. “Hi, um, sorry to bother, I’m looking for the photography lab?”

She nodded. “Third floor, black door at the end of the corridor. But you can’t go there, it’s been booked for the whole night by one of the macro photography shitheads, and whoever they are, they’re still locked in there”

Zayn smiled tightly. “The shithead’s my friend” he said coldly “Thanks”

He turned his back on the girl and started to climb the stairs. _Who am I even kidding, he’s not my fucking friend, has never been, I feel the furthest from friendly towards him._

He took a deep breath, deciding to blame his early awakening for how scrambled his thoughts were that day, and immediately spotted a black door. Zayn reached it, but didn’t open it. _What if he’s, I don’t know, developing films and I ruin it?_

So he texted Harry again. _I’m outside the door, can I open it?_

Harry didn’t reply, but five seconds later the door opened, revealing a very tired Harry, white t-shirt, hair in a bun, and huge eyebags. “Zayn?” he said, his voice even more tired than his face.

Zayn smiled. “Hi, babe”

Harry sighed and smiled a little, not as brightly as Zayn liked, but he gestured for Zayn to come in. He followed Harry, closing the door, and found himself in a brightly lit room with a lot of computers lined on desks by the walls, one of which was turned on.

“Zayn, if you wanna go and fuck, I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I have the physical strength at the moment” Harry said in a grim tone.

 _What the fuck._ Zayn showed him the backpack, trying not to think about how Harry had just assumed Zayn was looking for him to fuck. That there couldn’t be any other motives. “I brought you breakfast ‘cause you’ve been holed up in here since last night, so you finish what you’re doing, and then we can go eat, and then you can _sleep_ ” he said firmly.

Harry’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but the smile he gave Zayn was more genuine. “Thanks. Yeah. I’m almost done. My pics are in the darkroom, drying up, I just gotta wait ten more minutes and then I can put them in my folder and go” he said.

Zayn nodded, and carefully set his backpack on an empty chair. “I didn’t know you studied photography” _I never asked_ “I figured you would do something related to baking?”

Harry chuckled and pulled the hair-tie from his hair, making all his curls fall loose around his face. “Nah. I mean, I am a baker and I love my bakery, I love that it was going to shit and I could buy it for a ridiculously low price, and I wanna keep owning it until the day I die” Harry said “But… it’s just, I love taking pictures. And people told me that just owning a bakery and doing nothing more with my life was kind of a waste”

Zayn felt a pang of sadness in his chest when he caught the resigned tone in Harry’s words, and he got closer to him. “Haz, babe?” he slowly said “It’s never a waste if you love it. You don’t need a degree to prove you did something with your life. The way you work, the way you care about that place… there’s no waste in that”

Harry gave Zayn a different smile in that moment. It wasn’t like any of the smiles he’d ever seen on Harry’s face, it wasn’t wide or particularly bright, but it looked like Zayn could be the only recipient of it, and Zayn loved it so much he wanted to take it and put it in his pocket to hide it from anyone else. “Thanks, Zayn” Harry said in almost a whisper “It means a lot. But like, it’s not like I’m just in uni to prove something. I really like it. And I’m learning a lot. Might as well get some kind of paper that states I’m good at it”

Zayn chuckled. “Yeah. Might as well”

“Do you wanna see the darkroom?”

Zayn wiggled his eyebrows. “Is this an official invitation?”

Harry rolled his eyes and lightly swatted at Zayn’s shoulder. “Come on, you twat”

Zayn laughed and followed Harry through a small door on the other side of the room. He’d never been in a photography darkroom, but it was just as Zayn had always imagined one to be: lit only by some kind of dark red light, rows and rows of strings by the walls, and desks with rectangular bowls full of weird-smelling liquids.

Only one of the strings had pictures hung on it, and Zayn took some steps forward to look at them, but Harry grabbed his arm and looked at him with a sheepish smile, the red light casting alien shadows on his cheeks, nose and dimples. “I just wanna tell you that there’s a couple pics of you, but please don’t freak out, I would never use them for my assignment without telling you, I didn’t mean to like infringe your privacy or summat, it’s just they were cool and so I developed them and…”

“Haz” Zayn huffed a laugh “It’s cool, it’s fine”

Harry heaved a big sigh. It wasn’t really fine, to be honest, because why would Harry take pictures of Zayn, did fuckbuddies take pictures of each other like that? _It’s ‘cause we never were fuckbuddies to even begin with_ , something stubborn screamed in the back of Zayn’s mind, but he suppressed the thought before it could go any further, and walked to the pictures.

The first three had been taken at the bakery, Zayn was sure of it. The first was Liam, his sturdy profile dominating the scene in the kitchen as he manhandled a batch of bread dough, his muscles tense, and an eye-crinkling smile on his face as Harry’s ringed index poked him on the cheek from behind the camera. The second picture featured a couple sitting at a booth by the windows; the guy was giving Harry his back as he held a small box with a ring towards the girl, who was covering her mouth with her hands, her shocked eyes filled with tears. The third was a mother with a new-born sleeping on her chest, smiling down at the baby while sitting in the farthest corner of the bakery.

“What’s the theme?” Zayn asked in a whisper, mesmerized by the images.

“Overlooked things” Harry replied, just as quietly.

Zayn felt the familiar pang of sadness again, and forced his voice not to shake when he answered. “Explain them to me?”

“Liam’s always overlooked because he rarely comes out of the kitchen, but he really shouldn’t be ignored, ‘cause his smile can cure diseases and my pastries wouldn’t taste half as good if he wasn’t there to help me” Harry said, and even if Zayn wasn’t looking at him, he could feel the smile in his tone “The couple there was overlooked because they didn’t even look like a couple, they were just talking like two normal friends, but the second the guy started his introductory speech to the ring, the girl was looking at him like he hung the stars and moon, and how can such a _deep_ love be overlooked?” Harry took a break “The mother with the baby was overlooked because she sat at the most hidden corner of the bakery. But she was smiling at the baby, and well, I couldn’t overlook _that_ love either”

Zayn nodded, taking comfort in the warmth radiating from Harry next to him, because his voice was failing him. He tore his gaze off the picture with the mother, scanning the rest, and his heart did something weird when he looked at the last two.

It was him, Zayn, except it wasn’t, because that was how _Harry_ saw Zayn.

The first of the two pictures was a detail of Zayn’s fantail tattoo on the nape of his neck. Zayn had probably been sleeping when Harry had taken the picture, because the way his shoulders were positioned could only mean he was laying on his stomach, his arms under the pillow hugging it as he usually slept, and he could see the delicate mess of Harry’s blue duvet around the lower corners of the picture. The second was still Zayn, a full-body Zayn at the stove in Harry’s kitchen, his smile wide as he winced while trying (and failing, because he remembered that night) to flip a pancake in the pan.

“What’s overlooked in these two?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Your neck tattoo is always overlooked because it’s always hidden, and only a couple feathers show up from under your clothes, so most people dismiss it and can’t imagine how beautiful it is” he drawled “As for the other pic, it’s like, you were so cute trying to flip those pancakes, and no one should ever overlook Zayn Malik trying to cook”

Zayn didn’t think. His body acted on its own accord when he turned to Harry and grabbed his hips, pushing him backwards until he gently hit the wall. Zayn swallowed the small sigh Harry let out with his lips, kissing him as slowly as he could manage. Harry went willingly, parting his lips for Zayn with another sigh and groaning, but just a little, when their tongues collided. Zayn didn’t do much else, didn’t grind his hips against Harry’s, didn’t snake his hands under his t-shirt, because all he wanted was to keep kissing Harry in a darkroom, keep thinking about how Harry thought Zayn was overlooked, how he’d taken those pictures because he wanted to make sure no one could ignore or dismiss Zayn again.

“You can use my pics for your assignment” he breathed on Harry’s mouth “I am giving you official permission”

Harry chuckled, and his fingers grabbed the hem of Zayn’s t-shirt.

But no, no. Harry was tired, Harry still thought Zayn had really come all the way there for a fuck, and Zayn didn’t even _feel_ like fucking in that moment, and if he’d completely lost his mind over Harry Styles, then so be it.

“Nope” he grinned, grabbing Harry’s wrists to stop his roaming hands “Breakfast. Then sleep”

“Zayn” Harry huffed, indignantly, as if he couldn’t even _believe_ Zayn was stopping him. _What did I do to you, did I really make you think you’re just a fuck?_

“Harry” Zayn smiled, replicating his tone “Take your pics off those strings. And then we go”

Harry stared at Zayn in the darkness for another moment, and then smiled, lightly pushing Zayn away. “Can’t do much if you keep me trapped against the wall”

“Didn’t see you complaining, babe”

“Nope” Harry stated “Not complaining at all”

 

*

 

They grabbed Harry’s stuff, and decided to eat Zayn’s breakfast sitting on the grass under the shadow of one of the trees in the gigantic campus yard.

“I fucking _love_ apricot jam” Harry declared, stuffing his mouth with the toast “How did you know?”

Zayn tried not to frown at the question, and looked down at Harry, who was lying down with his head in Zayn’s lap. “I didn’t. Louis told me”

Harry shrugged. “Did the shithead brag about him knowing me better than you do? ‘Cause he only knows because he was at our place when I was rambling to myself about apricot jam and I didn’t notice someone was listening”

Zayn laughed. “He didn’t exactly brag” he admitted “He just told me that you hate blueberry jam and you prefer apricot”

Harry scrunched his nose. “Well, Zayn, if it’s _you_ making me breakfast, then I won’t mind the blueberries”

Zayn sighed and drove his fingers through Harry’s curls splayed on his leg. “Only apricots for you, now that I know”

Harry laughed. “Why did you come all the way here at the crack of dawn?” he asked, his voice a bit more slurred than usual. His eyes were drooping.

“I couldn’t sleep” Zayn lied “Thought I’d rather come and make sure you weren’t dead in that lab”

Harry hummed. “I am… quite close… to dying, I mean” he said, and it took him almost a whole minute to say the whole sentence.

When Zayn looked down again, Harry’s eyes were closed, and his rhythmic breaths left no doubt to the fact he’d completely fallen asleep.

Zayn didn’t wake him up right away, but kept playing with his curls and staring at his stupidly perfect face for a while, wondering how the fuck he’d even managed to keep lying to himself for so long about what he felt for Harry.

“Haz” he quietly said after maybe ten minutes “Haz, babe, wake up, you fell asleep”

Harry frowned, but didn’t open his eyes. Zayn delicately stroked his nose and cheeks with his index, keeping calling Harry’s name until the green of his eyes was there again, and Harry blinked.

“I’m awake I’m awake I’m awake” Harry assured, blinking more quickly.

Zayn snorted. “You ain’t, babe, but it’s alright. Let’s just go home and you can sleep properly”

Harry nodded, slowly sitting up.

And if Zayn brought Harry to his own place, tucked him in his bed and curled up behind him under the covers, because he at least _knew_ Harry liked to be the little spoon, well, nobody had to know.

 

*

 

 _Harry, can you PLEASE tell me if there’s something wrong?_ , Zayn nervously typed and sent, the last of at least twenty texts.

Harry had disappeared since that morning. He’d texted Zayn a stupid pun, and then he’d stopped replying. Zayn had tried to tell himself he was probably in his lab at uni like he’d been every day since the morning when Zayn had brought him breakfast, but Zayn knew he really wasn’t, because he’d said he’d finished the assignment. Zayn had also tried to pretend he wasn’t worried, except that he fucking was, because Harry had never disappeared like that. Granted, there had been days when he was just too busy to deal with Zayn as well, but even on those days, he’d still replied to Zayn with a text to let him know everything was fine, he was just busy.

Zayn’s worries had only increased by late afternoon, when he’d said a big _fuck you_ to any decency and he’d gone to the bakery. Harry hadn’t been there either, and when Zayn had asked Liam and Niall where he was, they’d both sheepishly looked at the ground and told him they didn’t know. They’d obviously been lying.

Zayn was now at his place, pacing the living room with his phone in his hands, because either something had happened to Harry, or he didn’t want to talk to Zayn. Neither option felt that great.

He called Harry for at least the fifteenth time, and he was again met with his voicemail. “Hey, it’s Harry, I’m so sorry I’m not answering, but please leave a message and I’ll call you back”, Harry’s voice told him. He’d fucking memorized that message by heart.

“Harry, what the fuck happened? I’m starting to worry, please call me back” he snapped into the phone before closing the call. His phone told him it was almost midnight. No, something was definitely wrong.

Zayn was almost to the point of stress-baking, and he was _shit_ at baking, so that was saying something. But before he could even go to the kitchen, a knock on his door made him jump.

He ran to the hallway. _Please be Harry please be okay please._

It was Harry. But he wasn’t okay.

He was soaked, the rain pouring outside had completely drenched him, and his lips were trembling. He was crying, hard, hiccups making his shoulders shake.

“Harry?”

Harry sniffled. “Zayn. I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna be alone anymore” he said, his voice breaking twice while he spoke, and Zayn’s heart collapsed at the sight.

He pulled Harry inside, and when their hands connected, Zayn couldn’t really help it. He closed the door and hugged Harry, closing his eyes.

_Harry Edward Styles. Heartbroken: 21 times._

“What happened?” Zayn asked, feeling the anger clouding his eyesight as he held Harry tighter. _Who dared hurt you, babe, I’m gonna fucking end them._

Harry sniffled in Zayn’s neck and shook his head. “No, please, please, Zayn, I don’t wanna talk about it”

“Okay” Zayn agreed, although he didn’t really want to let it go “Okay, babe, it’s fine, don’t worry”

He dragged Harry through the corridor and up the stairs to the bathroom. “Let’s get you warmed up a little bit” Zayn muttered, and Harry let Zayn manoeuvre him like a ragdoll as he got rid of Harry’s wet clothes, also starting the shower so that they’d have warm water.

“I’m sorry” Harry whispered, looking at the ground “I can… I can do it by myself, you know”

Zayn arched an eyebrow and started undressing too. “You said you don’t wanna be alone, I’m not gonna leave you alone” he pointed out, and gently pushed Harry under the warm water spray.

Zayn’s shower was no stranger to both of them together in it, although the activities they usually engaged in while showering were not innocent in the slightest most of the time. Now, though, none of them even tried to do more than just standing there. Harry sniffled some more and stared at Zayn right in the eyes, as if some legendary secret was hidden in them, and Zayn held his gaze the whole time, because he would probably never tire of looking into Harry’s eyes.

When Harry’s body felt like it had warmed up more than enough, Zayn turned off the shower and ushered him out of it. Harry kept still as Zayn gently covered his head with a towel and started massaging his scalp to get rid of most of the water.

Zayn guided him to his bedroom, and Harry didn’t object when Zayn lightly pushed him under the covers and followed him, both of them naked except for underwear.

Harry curled around Zayn with his cheek on his chest, and Zayn felt something heavy press against his ribcage, and it wasn’t just Harry’s head. “Can we sleep? I wanna sleep” Harry murmured.

Zayn held him closer and nodded. “We can do whatever you want, babe”

Harry was out cold shortly after.

Zayn didn’t even try to fall asleep. He couldn’t, no matter how soothing and familiar Harry’s steady breath felt.

 

*

 

Harry woke up when the sky was starting to brighten. He and Zayn were still in the same position, and Zayn’s arm had fallen asleep while he kept still for Harry the whole night, but he didn’t mind.

Harry raised his head a little bit, and when he noticed Zayn was already – _still_ – awake, he smiled.

“Sorry I barged in and probably worried you” Harry said quietly.

Zayn chuckled. “You worried me more when you didn’t answer your fucking phone the whole day” he couldn’t help but tell Harry.

Harry sighed, his cheek still on Zayn’s chest. “I was with my ex”

He probably clearly felt Zayn’s whole body go rigid, because he immediately raised his head, took a brief glance at Zayn, and sat up, without speaking further.

Zayn had to use all his fucking self-control not to fist the bedsheets so hard he would rip them. His ex, his fucking _ex_? Zayn had been worried sick the whole day, and Harry had been with _someone else_ , doing God knew what because he and Zayn weren’t dating, so why shouldn’t he? He had every right, except Zayn couldn’t fucking _stand_ the thought of Harry even smiling at another man, let alone _something else, something more_.

“I see” was all that left Zayn’s mouth.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Are you seriously getting mad right now?” he coldly asked.

Zayn sat up as well. “I don’t know, Harry, why should I get mad? Is there something you need to tell me? Did you guys make up or something? Were you fucking him the whole day while I thought something had happened to you?”

Harry gaped. “What… no, you know what, that’s not the fucking point”

“Isn’t it? Because the fact that you didn’t answer my questions tells me I’m probably right, Harry” Zayn said, standing up from the bed, because he needed to put some distance between them, needed it to hurt because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to handle whatever came next. Louis had told him heartbreak helped you deal with how overwhelming the whole love thing felt, and well, Zayn was about to prove Louis right.

Harry stood up too. “Who do you take me for, Zayn?” he almost shouted “When have I even _shown interest_ in wanting anyone else but you? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I haven’t been able to even fucking _think_ about anyone else, but what would you know about that, am I right?”

Zayn recoiled like Harry had punched him in the guts. “What do you mean with that?”

Harry shrugged, his expression bitter. “Why would you even get mad about me seeing my ex?”

“I don’t know, Harry, I don’t even fucking know what _we_ are!” Zayn shouted.

“We’re _nothing_!” Harry screamed, tears in his eyes “We’re _nothing_ , because you would never want me, you run from relationships like they’re fucking venomous snakes, and I don’t fucking get why you even keep seeing me, Zayn! You fuck me, I fuck you, we never cross any _lines_ and I don’t even know where the lines are! Do we even have any lines?”

Zayn didn’t answer. _I don’t want any lines, I want you_ , was what he wanted to say, but Harry was angry, Harry had thought all along that Zayn didn’t want relationships. And he hadn’t wanted them for his whole life. That had changed when Harry had dropped into Zayn’s life like a bomb, but had Zayn ever _shown_ Harry that he’d changed? No, he hadn’t, so he couldn’t blame Harry.

“I didn’t make up with Nick, I didn’t even fucking touch him” Harry said coldly “He’s been my most important relationship, not that you would know, because you never _ask_. He’s been important, and he’s been my worst heartbreak. But I healed. I ran into him, we chatted a bit. And then, just like that, just as _it didn’t matter_ , he told me he’d never even loved me in the first place, that the fucking was great, but there has never been much else for him with me”

Zayn’s eyes widened. How could _anyone_ even think Harry could just be a great fuck and nothing more? Harry was so much more than that, and he had to know. Right?

“I guess he was right” Harry kept going “Because that’s all I am, ain’t I? A good fuck. You’re proof of that”

 _No no no you’re not_ , Zayn didn’t know how to say.

Harry shrugged bitterly. “You _have_ to have noticed how I follow you like a fucking dog” he said grimly “There’s no way you could be just a fuckbuddy to me, you never were. But that’s what you want, so I adapted. Never say that Harry Styles doesn’t know how to make the most of the situation” he did his horrible bitter chuckle again.

“Harry, no, wait, I… I didn’t realize you felt that way” Zayn replied.

Harry laughed, and started frantically wearing his clothes, taking them from the heater where Zayn had put them to dry them. Zayn wanted to stop him, but he didn’t know how, because Harry was hurt, and this time, it was Zayn’s fault.

“Of course you didn’t realize” Harry muttered, standing up, fully clothed “Zayn, don’t you understand the reason I came to you when I was heartbroken? There is literally _anyone else_ I could have gone to. But I _chose_ to come to you. I shouldn’t have, though, because you don’t care, you never did, you want the fucking and the easy stuff and that’s good for you ‘cause it means your heart will never break. _My_ heart, on the contrary, just fucking broke all over again, and I think there has to be a limit, because I feel like this time it’ll never heal”

Harry stuffed his feet in his boots and faced Zayn again. “You don’t want me, not really, and I don’t understand why you would even get mad. At this point, I don’t even care why. So now I’ll go, and I’ll never see you again. And if I’m extremely lucky, sometime in the future you’ll be one of the heartbreaks I don’t even remember”

Harry didn’t wait for an answer. He just strode past Zayn, lightly brushing his shoulder with his, and got out of the room. But before he went, Zayn looked at him again, and closed his eyes not to see him leave.

Neon-blue letters greeted Zayn again.

_Harry Edward Styles. Heartbroken: 22 times. Hearts broken by him: 1._

Zayn flinched when he heard his front door slam shut.

 

*

 

Zayn spent the rest of the two following weeks asking himself why he didn’t stop Harry before he could leave. The truth, though, was one and one alone, but Zayn didn’t know how to come to terms with it.

That he was just a coward, and that was the reason he hadn’t been able to tell Harry how he really felt, not even when it could have made Harry stay.

Zayn had never been able to properly express his feelings, hadn’t ever needed to, because he’d been lucky. Lucky that his family never felt the need to ask him if he loved them, and how much, because they already knew. Lucky that Louis had figured Zayn out already in kindergarten, and he didn’t need Zayn to speak out loud either.

Harry, on the contrary, had _needed_ Zayn to speak, but Zayn hadn’t been able to, didn’t know how. So Harry had gone, and Zayn had let him.

And if he wanted to be honest and completely self-deprecating, he also knew Harry had made the best call for himself. He needed someone who could show him that he mattered, every day. Show him that he was worthy of being loved.

Zayn had gone and made the mistake he hated the most, because he’d overlooked Harry, taken for granted that he’d always be there with Zayn even if Zayn made no effort whatsoever to show him that he wanted Harry to. And a single breakfast with the right jam wasn’t even nearly enough.

One thing Zayn had gained, though. He’d learned something new. He’d learned that the saying ‘time will heal’ was fucking bullshit, because two Harry-less weeks had already passed, and it still hurt like the very second Harry had left Zayn’s house. Zayn was fairly sure time wouldn’t heal shit for him, and the worst thing was, he knew he deserved the pain.

Because he’d been lucky enough to never have his heart broken before, while Harry had his broken twenty-two times. The karma Harry so firmly believed in stated that Zayn had to make up for all that heartbreak, and he fucking was, and it hurt like a bitch.

He started not going out except for work, partly because he didn’t want to do anything, and partly because he was scared senseless that he’d run into Harry, only to find him all healed already, Zayn just a forgotten heartbreak in the back of his mind. Zayn was sure he couldn’t take it, no matter how he wanted Harry to be okay.

Sometimes, late at night when he couldn’t sleep because of how used he’d gotten to having Harry to curl into, Zayn thought about Harry’s ex.

Zayn had been even more stupid than he cared to really admit to himself, because every time he replayed their last conversation in his mind, he realized how blindly angry he’d been to dare ask Harry if he’d made up with his ex, if he’d been fucking him the whole day. Because Harry had been crying and heartbroken when he’d shown up at Zayn’s doorstep, so of course the meeting with his ex couldn’t have gone that well. And besides, Zayn now believed Harry about one of the last things he’d said. That Harry hadn’t been able to want or even look at anybody else except Zayn. Harry had done a thousand things to show Zayn that he loved him. And Zayn had loved him right back, but he’d kept it hidden like a secret, like something to be ashamed of, and _that_ was what had really broken Harry’s heart for the twenty-second time.

His ex didn’t matter. What mattered was that Zayn had been wrong, and they both had paid the consequences.

The heavy banging on his door made him snap out of his toxic whirlwind of thoughts and jolt. Zayn sighed, because he perfectly knew there was only a limited amount of time in which Louis would let Zayn sulk and ignore his calls and texts, before resorting to more invasive methods.

Like almost tearing his door from the hinges.

Zayn sighed again and forced himself to stand up from the couch, slowly going for the door. He opened it, and sure enough, Louis was there, panting heavily.

“Lou, I…”

“Why don’t you ever fucking answer your fucking phone?” Louis shouted.

Zayn frowned, and it took just a second to realize something was wrong with Louis, and it wasn’t just the fact that Zayn hadn’t wanted to go out in two weeks.

“Lou?” he carefully said.

Louis sighed. “I’ve sent you texts when I realized you were not gonna answer my calls. Did you fucking _read_ them? ‘Cause I swear to God that if you read them and decided to ignore me anyway I’m gonna break your fucking nose”

“I didn’t read them. Sorry” Zayn winced.

Louis’s eyes narrowed, but his tone was more careful when he spoke next. “Zayn… It’s Harry. He’s in the hospital, and he’s not waking up”

 

*

 

Zayn felt like the world was turning backwards as he was sitting in Louis’s car with him, while he drove them both to the hospital.

He hadn’t even asked Louis what had happened, he’d just bolted out the door and Louis had followed him, lightly pushing him to his car when he’d realized Zayn had apparently forgotten how to properly move.

“What happened, Lou?” Zayn asked after a moment, the silence threatening to kill him “Do you know what happened to him?”

Louis sighed. “I’m not really sure. Liam was very agitated when he called me. He just said that Harry did something weird with his power”

 _No no no, babe, what did you do, why?_ “He used his power to look at the name of a murderer. And he slipped into a coma” Zayn explained, listening to his blank tone clash horribly with the fear he was feeling, the fear that Harry wouldn’t wake up, that he’d challenged himself and what he could do for the last time.

Louis looked at Zayn with a quick movement of his head. “What? That’s something Harry can do?”

“Not apparently” Zayn replied “He can go as far as seeing time and cause of death if he tries very hard. But he’s a stubborn fucking arsehole, he _knows_ what happens when he tries to see the name of a killer. It already happened to him once. The victims were kids and he tried to look at the name, and he ended up in a coma. He almost died, and he didn’t see any name anyway”

Zayn saw the grim profile of the hospital standing tall against the night sky as Louis swiftly parked his car in a vacant lot and then turned his whole body towards Zayn. “Zayn?” he carefully said “Harry managed to see the name of the killer this time. He told his stepfather right before losing consciousness. And… the victims were not kids this time”

Zayn frowned. “Why are you telling me? What does it even have to do with anything?”

“They were hate killings. The murderer was attacking Pakistani people”

Zayn’s heart did a somersault, and started thumping hard against his sternum. “Did they catch him? Did they? I need to call my father, I need to tell him to be careful, I need…”

“Zayn!” Louis shouted, blocking Zayn’s hands which were shaking as he frantically looked for his phone “It’s okay! They got him already. That’s not what I wanted you to think about when I told you”

“Then bloody _what_ , Lou?” Zayn snapped “Please, let’s just go, I just wanna see him…”

“He did it ‘cause of _you_ , are you fucking daft?” Louis screamed in Zayn’s face “Now that I know what he can do, it’s bloody clear. He was scared you could be one of the next victims. So he used his power”

Zayn opened his mouth to voice the only thought that was banging into his skull, but Louis stopped him raising his hand. “I swear to God, Zayn, if you’re about to say some nonsense like ‘why would he even do that?’ I’m gonna break your nose _and_ your legs” Louis said “Harry _loves_ you, fucking hell, he’s been loving you since even _before_ you realized you loved him. And if all this time you thought Harry would just be peachy without you and _heal_ , you’re fucking mistaken, ‘cause he’s been miserable without you, and I know for sure, ‘cause I _saw_ him every day”

Zayn had had to summon all his strengths to never ask Louis about Harry, because he did know that Louis would see him every time he went at Liam’s. But the fact that Louis had never told him Harry had also been miserable made his fists ball.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That he misses me? You knew I missed him” he gritted out.

Louis just chuckled. “For the same reason I never told _him_ that you were miserable as well. It’s _your_ business, Zayn. You two never knew how to talk to each other, and there’s no one who can do the talking for you. It needs to come from _you_ to be authentic. I can wax poetics about how wonderful you would look together, but until both of you are sure you want each other, it’s not gonna matter”

 

*

 

Niall had greeted Zayn with a sour expression, but it had taken him just a brief glance at Zayn to drop the act and let him sit on the chair by Harry’s bedside.

Zayn didn’t say anything, he just sat there next to Niall, staring at Harry’s motionless body, IV needles in his arms and machines bleeping all around him.

“Did Harry ever tell you about his power?” Niall asked Zayn in a whisper, when they were left alone with Harry while Liam and Louis went to grab them all coffee.

Zayn nodded. “It’s the reason he’s here now”

Niall chuckled. “I didn’t mean _this_ power. I meant the other one”

Zayn turned to look at Niall so quickly he strained a muscle in his neck. He probably had a very shocked and confused expression, because Niall chuckled again and nodded. “Yeah, figured he wouldn’t”

“What do you mean?”

Niall gently stroked the back of Harry’s hand, the same hand Zayn was holding, had been holding for three hours now. “When Harry turned twenty-one, two years ago, the town hall sent him a notice, telling him that even if he was already born with a power, he could go and choose one anyway, ‘cause the law is the same for everyone and shit” Niall said quietly “He decided not to go. He said he already had his power, didn’t need another one. So we went and chose one for him, gave it to him as a gift”

Zayn looked at Harry’s closed eyes. “I’ve heard of some powers that can be bought and given as presents. It’s just the small ones, though, right?”

Niall shrugged. “The one we chose for Harry can be small or great, depending on how you look at it”

“What can he do?”

“We gave him the power to feel it, when he crossed paths with the right person for him” Niall told Zayn, focusing his eyes on him, so that Zayn was forced to stop staring at Harry and hold Niall’s gaze “We knew how much heartbreak Harry had experienced, and we were afraid the time would come when it would be the last, and he would never heal. So we gave him the power to understand who the right person for him was. To spare him. Town hall told us there were no guarantees this kind of power would work, but we gave it to him anyway. At least it was _something_ , you know”

Zayn nodded, and didn’t reply, because he didn’t even know if his voice was working anymore.

“It’s been two years. We just assumed the power wasn’t working. And then, out of the blue, Harry comes home one night and he tells us he met this bloke in an abandoned building, and the moment their hands touched, he felt a bolt of electricity so powerful it almost hurt”

 _What the fuck what do you mean this can’t be happening._ “Me?” Zayn asked, stupidly.

Niall chuckled. “ _Yes_ , Zayn, _you_. It doesn’t matter, though”

Zayn sighed and looked at the ground. “No, I guess it doesn’t”

Niall laughed, and Zayn frowned at him, raising his head again. “You’re so fucking daft, I _told_ him you couldn’t be this fit and _also_ have a working brain” he commented “It doesn’t matter because Harry would have fallen in love with you even without the power we gave him, Zayn. He was done for you by the time you helped him throw the rubbish at the bakery. And to be honest, I feel like that’s also about the time when you were done for him as well”

Zayn chuckled sadly. “Yeah, probably”

“So see, it’s not about powers, it’s not about anything except you two. And you’ve both been too scared or stubborn or stupid to admit it out loud, and it ended up eating you both alive, until all that was left was heartbreak” Niall said “But the thing is that, both of you _did_ things to show the other they mattered. It’s only that neither of you knew how to interpret what the other meant. You know Harry’s pics from the assignment have been made a one-month instalment at the national gallery?”

“ _What_?” Zayn hissed, and he couldn’t help a smile at that.

He turned to look at Harry, and he was about to say _babe, I’m so fucking proud of you_ , but he bit his own tongue, remembering that Harry couldn’t hear him.

“You should go and have a look at it” Niall told him surely “Harry’s not gonna move from this bed, I’m afraid. But you should look at the pics, so that you can finally see what neither of you was able to say”

Zayn didn’t really want to leave Harry there, but he also knew Niall was right. Harry hadn’t wanted to show him his other pictures for the assignment, and Zayn was done losing hope. If there was even a chance that Harry’s pics could tell Zayn that he really loved him no matter the heartbreak, then Zayn needed to see for himself.

_Until both of you are sure you want each other, it’s not gonna matter._

Zayn stood up, and despite himself and the tornado of emotions he was feeling, he leaned on Harry to whisper right to his ear. “I’m so proud of you, babe. You matter, I won’t ever overlook you again. Wake up” he said, and then was gone.

 

*

 

Zayn was hit by a brand new feeling of pride for Harry when he entered the room where his installation was held.

 _All the things I overlooked_ , read the title, written in bold letters on the entrance door, right next to Harry’s name.

The room was full of people, but the walls were all bare and white, except for one of them, where a row of five pictures was hung, big pictures framed by simple glass.

None of them were the pictures Zayn had already seen in Harry’s darkroom, and all of them were surely, certainly, without a doubt about Zayn.

The first picture was a close up of one of Zayn’s eyes, crinkled like he was laughing. _I overlooked the way your smile is always different when it’s for me_ , said the caption under the picture.

Zayn was already feeling his eyes watering, but he stoically choked back his tears, and went further down the line.

Zayn’s hand was the subject of the second picture. Zayn felt a pang of arousal when he realized his hand was squeezing the flesh on Harry’s thigh, although nobody except him could have guessed. He knew, though, because he vividly remembered how they’d decided it was a brilliant idea to take sex pictures, the day after Zayn had discovered Harry was a photographer. _I overlooked how your hands feel when you touch me like I’ll break_ , was the caption.

The third picture was Zayn’s wings tattooed on his chest. _I overlooked what it meant that I could stare at you for days on end, and never be tired._

Zayn’s hands started to shake, and his eyes filled with unstoppable tears, so he stopped choking them back. He blinked, letting them fall, and wiped his eyes with the hem of his sleeve to be able to keep looking at how much Harry loved him.

The fourth picture, on a closer inspection, Zayn had already seen it. It was the picture of him in the kitchen, failing to flip pancakes. _I overlooked how right you feel in my space._

“Oh, Harry” Zayn muttered, and when he got to the fifth and last picture, his heart hurt so much he couldn’t even tell if it was because it broke all over again, or because it was starting to slowly mend itself.

It was them, both of them, Harry and Zayn, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the kitchen in the bakery, facing each other as Harry giggled and fed Zayn a piece of cinnamon roll, while Zayn laughed and opened his mouth. Zayn didn’t even know how that picture had come into being, but again, he perfectly remembered the moment. _I overlooked us_ , the final caption just said.

Zayn burst out crying. Out loud, in the middle of the room, and in public.

He didn’t really care.

 

*

 

When he ran back to the hospital, tears still blurring his vision and his feet hurting from the effort, he climbed the stairs to Harry’s room two at a time, and barged into the room to tell Niall that he understood now.

There was no Niall in the room.

There was Harry, though, awake and beautiful, sitting on the bed with his back propped against some pillows.

Harry was smiling, but his smile faded when he realized it was Zayn, and _no no no please look at me I miss your eyes_.

“Did they tell you I was here?” Harry muttered “I didn’t want them to tell you”

Zayn scoffed. “I’ve been told _plenty_ , by a lot of people” he said “Especially something really interesting about your powers”

Harry’s head rose quickly, his green eyes scanning Zayn with a scared expression. “I…”

“Shut up” Zayn smiled “I should be mad at you for not telling me, you know? I should have doubts that maybe you decided to stick with me ‘cause you already knew I was ‘the one’ and all that bullshit, but the thing is, Harry, I’m not ‘the one’, I can’t be, ‘cause I hurt you. If I was the right person for you, you wouldn’t have ended up with your heart broken for the twenty-second time, and you wouldn’t have ended up breaking mine for the _first_ time, ‘cause yeah, by the way, you fucking did”

Harry gaped. “I… Zayn, I’m… I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. I’m not finished yet” Zayn stated “I’m not your ‘the one’. But I want to be anyway”

“What? Zayn, fucking hell, I just woke up from a mini-coma, I’m not understanding a word you’re saying”

Zayn laughed. “That’s ‘cause I doubt I’m making any sense, babe. But the point is that I want you. I want you all the fucking time, and I never told you ‘cause I was scared, and too fucking proud. And I’m a horrible person, I’d probably be a horrible boyfriend anyway, so I will give you one chance to tell me to fuck off, and if you want, I will fuck off”

Harry stuttered. “B-Boyfriend?”

“Yeah” Zayn huffed “Yeah, Haz. Boyfriend. If you’ll have me. ‘Cause I’ll be bad at it, but I’ll try with all I have, and I’ll make sure you never, _never_ , think that you’re not worthy or feel overlooked”

Harry’s face opened in a teary smile, and he chuckled, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. For breaking your heart” he said.

Zayn finally allowed himself to step forward and get closer to Harry, without sitting, just looking at him. Harry smiled a little, and scooted over, raising the hospital duvet. Zayn toed off his boots and climbed into bed with Harry in less than two seconds.

“You scared the shit out of me” Zayn murmured when they were both lying down, Harry’s cheek on his chest, just like Zayn loved.

Harry sighed. “I was so scared as well. When Robin told me about the victimology for the case, I… I just couldn’t sit still and do nothing. He tried to stop me, but I didn’t let him. I’m so glad that I managed to see the name this time, before losing consciousness. You could have been next, Zayn. You could have been just walking down some street and you could have run into that murderer. I felt like the ground was slipping from under my feet at the thought”

“Promise me you won’t ever do it again, babe” Zayn didn’t even feel ashamed about his begging tone “Please. Not ever again”

Harry nodded. “Okay. I promise”

He raised his head a little bit, and smiled at Zayn. So Zayn kissed him, because there was nothing else he wanted to do, not now that Harry was _his_ , truly his, for the first time ever.

“Oh, and” Zayn added “I also overlooked _us_. And I’m sorry”

Harry gaped. “You went to see my installation?”

Zayn laughed. “I’m the fucking model, babe. Of course I went”

Harry smiled the smile Zayn loved the most. The one that was not wide and not particularly bright, but looked like Zayn could be the only one on the receiving end of it.

“I never touched Nick” Harry said after a while, just as Zayn was beginning to wonder if he’d fallen asleep.

“Okay” Zayn said, sighing in relief, because he already knew, but he also needed the words “I knew. I was just so angry, so jealous. But I knew you didn’t”

“Do you wanna know about him? I can tell you if you wanna know”

Zayn didn’t, he realized. And it wasn’t because it hurt, but just because it really didn’t matter. Nick might have been important, might have been the reason for _two_ of Harry’s heartbreaks, but Zayn believed Harry. That man was in Harry’s past, and Zayn could, _would_ , be Harry’s present from then on.

“I don’t wanna know” Zayn said honestly “I don’t care about him. I care about you. I don’t wanna know about Nick, I wanna know _you_. You can start by telling me why you hate blueberries so much”

Harry laughed. And it was the sweetest sound in the world, Zayn thought. He didn’t say it, though. It felt too sappy even for him, and he was extremely sure Harry understood anyway, because sometimes he needed the words, but now, for the first time, they didn’t need any.

So Zayn kissed him again, and in that kiss, Harry also told him something without using any words. He told Zayn that now he knew that Zayn would never overlook his heart, not again in a million years.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a DRABBLE, what's happening to me?  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, let me know what you think.  
> You'll find me on tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com if you wanna talk to me.  
> Till next time!


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